


Beneath The Tree/If If If  Takashi, Kyoya ||OHSHC

by Memento__Mori



Series: Mori Writes  /  Poetry and Plots || OHSHC [16]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, First Love, Fluff, Other, Poetry, Sexual Fantasy, Takashi has a secret, Who Comforts the Comforter, fast burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27695009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memento__Mori/pseuds/Memento__Mori
Summary: The two of them had remained in almost the same position, there in the prop closet. Kyoya could not bring himself to lift his head as it slipped further down his fellow host’s chest, no, he thought, his friend’s chest, marring flat linen as he burrowed his head under the shelter of Takashi’s wide-cut left sleeve.  Clinging to the larger man, he adjusted into the hug; glasses falling. He did not hear them break, and was shocked that this contact was more important.Somewhere there was the click of a camera— a black and white image of this strange moment preserved in the photo book of his mind.He hid his face, pressed halfway inside that massive jacket, sheltered and secure— his tear-stained face rested below the giant upperclassman’s heart.Beneath Mori’s heart…Beneath Mori’s branches, one of many trees in the family Morinozuka.
Relationships: Fujioka Haruhi/Morinozuka Takashi, Ootori Kyouya/Suoh Tamaki
Series: Mori Writes  /  Poetry and Plots || OHSHC [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631236
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Beneath The Tree/If If If  Takashi, Kyoya ||OHSHC

(Beneath The Tree/ If If If continued)

Kyoya hated his own heart still, how it could feel this strongly. The thought flew by “I blame you, Suoh!” and vanished. So much of what he had thought had been anger was passion. Passion for life, for his friends, for his love, Tamaki. 

Something about finally being with Tamaki had brought out an unexpected side of himself, passion and tenderness, damn it, feelings that were not feared. 

It was harder and harder to wear his Host Club Cool Type mask when sheltered like this— and this, this... was not fear, either.

He gripped Mori-Senpai’s sides and began confessing, how he had taken the poetry home, and made no effort at hiding it. How he had betrayed the immense trust of the man who knelt, supporting him. Of course, the Morinozukas trained in so much, for all Kyoya knew, cradling a traitor and bringing calm, was just more of the same. 

Between shaking breath after shaking breath,  
Kyoya told his Senpai everything. 

Kyoya did not see his glasses caught, safe, or the far-away look in the eyes of his shelter. His Senpai heard, and wondered elsewhere, somewhere warm.  
____________

## If If If Takashi || OHSHC 

I.  
Yes, yes, I am young yet.  
Haunted with questions,  
Ghosts of hope unmet  
Of a sweet misstep  
It **was** the first blush that caught me—

What kept me here, her.  
All  
That I since sensed and  
Something more.  
No words for it.  
  
Still I write— these moments in between the next act/reaction. 

If I were to simply  
Pray at the  
Altar of her mind, silently,  
If I were to continue  
Reveling  
In the occasional, accidental touch 

If I were to live  
With scant, secret memories  
Encased in amber, too revered  
Never daring for more  
In this life  
  
That my _all_ begs to explore  
More  
With and of her—

I would lose what  
I was taught  
As well as  
As well as  
Yes.

II.  
If I were to stay silent  
When words  
Might fly  
  
Would that silence be in truth a lie?

If I were to begin  
To pay court  
With all my heart  
(Despite what she has seen)

Knowing I would not stop,  
Lest she told me no.

That our age or station mean nothing to the soul  
Convention is not bent past breaking  
A few years between us should not stop  
This hope, this undertaking 

Gods, know this—  
That I would never hold her back,  
Though Oh!  
How I would hold her.

III.  
If I were to meet  
Her eyes and hold them  
With this heat and heart of me

The strong and imperfect of me,  
The clay, flesh, bone and blood of me—  
All in a look

I know these eyes  
Would be met, and not mistook.

IV.  
If, if, if,  
She would meet _me_  
With that strength forged early,  
With sense, to yield or plant those feet ferociously

Stubbornness and love in the face of fools  
Laughter laced with wit and kind  
Her will, no match for it

Honor better than I have seen  
In this short life. 

Her _self_ revealed,  
Human, driven, solitary, shining—  
Simply, Haruhi.

I will not forget this, my first half Of whole love

Even if her word was “No.”

Which would be more wrong?

To start a life that might hold both of us as one  
Betrothals are  
Made young,  
My family would agree, I could finally be true  
To who she in part  
Has made me

Or 

To hold back passion,  
In short,  
To lie to her forever  
Would I never offer her the chance  
To say “No” to all that I am?  
Erase her from this choice?  
... would I steal her voice? 

V.  
If, If, If,  
Yes—  
  
If I were to only  
Caress her  
With my eyes — it would be a lie.

My truth is impossible to disguise once set free—

Given leave, I would travel her with fingertips,  
Feel the flesh of her, chart  
And memorize each inch  
Her work-rough palms, the sublime side of her face,  
Her neck, the downy nape where my lips ache to rest—

I would watch, listen for that same gasp I drew from her unfairly,  
First  
Mark her tenderest, most sensitive spots on the map of my heart, feel  
Where slight touch raised her, where my fingers strayed  
Stroke and pluck her like a harp, set blood singing 

Where her collar met the tie,  
I’d dart, dipping behind the knot  
Slipping one finger lower  
To savor her sigh

Wait  
For her eyes to darken, heavy-lidded, not lost, never lost —  
She would see and know it was me

Who charted the map of her body, traced past the jacket  
Drifted across the uniform shirt, skimming  
Pausing  
Pressing  
To escape around her waist,  
Hold the small of her back

Wait  
For what I dream of—  
To continue, to free the shirt at her back, lift it

(The ritual of undressing; I reel to write it) 

Just enough to feel my hand meet and hold her there  
Skin to skin  
Discovering.

My other hand free for her desire to guide.

This time, her frightening, shining mind would, could,  
  
Follow any curiosity that arose about my frame,  
Follow any wish she gave a name, any whim  
No sin, no shame,  
  
Just as we both whispered with our eyes,  
Once promised with that touch. 

I know enough of her now that  
She would take  
What she wanted of me, perhaps with a blush,  
But also with determination, that drive—  
Nothing would stop her

If, if, if

She wanted this.  
If she still wanted me.

Given leave, I would embrace her, trace her and seek her lips  
In this urgent fire,  
A stunning blaze of firsts.

**Author's Note:**

> -Updates, with thanks!-
> 
> Your feedback and kudos (ok, yes, I admit it, they are a blast to see) kept me writing through some roughness and loss.
> 
> Thank you. With respect, M.


End file.
